


Strap Your Hands 'Cross my Engines

by phoenixflight



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dean Winchester Loves The Impala, Fluff and Smut, Human Impala (Supernatural), Multi, Threesome - F/M/M, Transformation, Witch Curses, unspecified mid canon timeline
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-11
Updated: 2020-06-11
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:56:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24657952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phoenixflight/pseuds/phoenixflight
Summary: “Hold your horses,” the witch called when Dean pounded on her door. Sam and Baby were behind him, Baby craning her neck to look in one of the cottage’s windows.The door scraped open and the witch poked her head out. “Back already? Who’s this?” she added, looking at Baby.“This is my car,” Dean said, flatly.
Relationships: Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester, Impala/Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester
Comments: 24
Kudos: 108
Collections: Wincest Reverse Bang





	Strap Your Hands 'Cross my Engines

**Author's Note:**

> Look, I'm a sucker for Impala transformation stories. I saw MidnightSilver's art and I knew I wanted to write for it. You've been so easy going and lovely to work with, hope you enjoy!  
> [Find their art HERE!](https://midnightsilver.tumblr.com/post/620655490083471360/dont-mind-me-you-normally-dont-art-prompt-for)  
> This fic undeniably owes a debt, in my interest in the trope and in Baby's personality, to Rivkat's [Moves series](https://archiveofourown.org/series/2), my all time favorite Impala story, so if you like this, go read that also.  
> The title is from the Boss, ofc; Born to Run.  
> A million thanks to [elliott](https://archiveofourown.org/users/badaltin) and hairmonie for the beta. All remaining mistakes are mine.

The witch lived on a farmstead in Montana, the sort of place Dean associated with hippies in the Sierra Nevadas and hillbillies in the Appalachians; an overgrown garden and messy barnyard with chickens and cats underfoot, and pigs and goats bleating in their pens. Except unlike the hippies and hillbillies, the animals this witch was keeping had once been human. 

Given their policy on hunting humans, normally that would have meant a knock-down, drag-out fight over her spell book, followed by handcuffing and a call to the local cops. However, since the police chief was one of the hogs currently snuffling around the backyard and apparently had a reputation for smacking his wife, they scrapped that plan. 

“I run an AirBnB,” the witch told them, pouring tea. “With a special reputation. Women who are having problems can come to me. I help them out.” 

“That’s… very enterprising,” Sam said, “But we can’t just let you keep transforming people.” He took a sip of the tea and added, “This is a lovely puerh.” 

Dean kicked him under the table. Seriously? Sam knew better than to drink something from a witch after she’d just admitted to roofying men into animals. Abusers and rapists, to be fair, but still. You never knew, with witches. 

The witch, whose name, hilariously, was Samantha, raised her eyebrows at him. But all she said was, “It’s so nice making a living helping people.” 

They ended up leaving with a jar of the powder she used for her transformations and a promise of consequences if they ever got wind of non-predatory men disappearing in her neck of the woods. Trekking the half-mile back to the car, Dean said, “Puerh? Seriously?” 

Sam made a face at him. “There was a tea shop Jess used to go nuts for, in Palo Alto. It’s good, okay?” 

“I can’t believe you’d drink something a witch served you. If you got turned into a goat I absolutely would not let you in the car.”

“Come on. If one of us got whammied for crimes against the fairer sex, it wouldn’t be me.” 

“Hey! In two decades you know how many complaints I’ve had? Zero. Zilch. Nada. Love ‘em and leave ‘em isn’t a crime, Sammy, it’s a mutually beneficial arrangement.” He hadn’t actually slept with a woman in ages, not since he and Sam worked the - heh - kinks out of their little arrangement. “What are you planning to do with this crap anyway?” He held up the jar of grayish powder and shook it. 

“Might be useful. Figure I can test it out on some other stuff, see if it has wide applicability.” 

They reached the car, parked on a pull-out along the Forest Service road, and Dean gave her a habitual once-over. Leaving her in the woods always meant the potential for bird shit or sap, but there was nothing other than a few pine needles on her hood. 

“So. Drive straight through? We could make it in two shifts.” It was fourteen hours or so back to Lebanon, but it was barely noon. Arriving at two in the morning was worth it to sleep on his own mattress, as far as Dean was concerned. 

“Yeah. But…” 

Dean turned at the tone of his brother’s voice, raising his eyebrows. That was Sam’s sex voice. “But?” 

“But before we get on the road…” 

“Oh, you think sex gets you off the hook for getting cozy with a witch?” 

“I dunno, Dean. Do you want me to blow you or not?” 

Well, when Sam put it that way. 

Dean let his brother push him up against the Impala’s hood and kiss him, the jar of spell powder tucked under one arm. They were alone in the foothills of the Rockies, the midday sun warm on Baby’s hood, the ponderosas whispering all around them and filling the air with a clean, piney scent. Sam’s mouth was soft and familiar, his hands confident on Dean’s belt. When Sam went to his knees in the duff of needles, Dean threaded a hand through his hair and thought that in a lifetime of unfair shit, this made up for a lot. A warm summer day in the mountains, nothing immediately going wrong, Sammy pressing gentle kisses along the length of Dean’s fattening cock. 

Tipping his head back, Dean sighed as Sam licked across his slit and then took the head in his mouth, suckling gently as Dean hardened fully. He rocked his hips a little and Sam moved with him, easy, hands huge and warm on his hips where his shirt was riding up. Sam’s lips were shiny with spit. The metal of the Impala’s hood was fire-brick hot against the back of Dean’s thighs, through the denim, comfortable, and matching heat was coiling slowly in the pit of Dean’s gut, tightening at the base of his cock. Sam tugged his pants down further and curled his fingers around Dean’s balls, pressing up behind them. Dean thrust forward more deliberately, watching Sam’s pupils expand, fingers skimming his perineum, making Dean’s hole twitch. 

Pulling back, Sam licked his lips and grunted, “Wanna fuck you.” 

“Yeah. Hang on, lemme get the lube.” Pants around his thighs, Dean scooted across the hood and popped open the passenger side door, hooking an arm around awkwardly to reach the glove compartment. He was splayed out over the whole hood, Sam nuzzling unhelpfully at his nipples. Dean’s fingers closed around the lube, and then as an afterthought, tossed the jar of whammy-powder into the front seat. He just had time to say “Pants off, Sammy,” before the warm metal of the hood disappeared from beneath his back. 

Dean crashed to the forest floor; the pine needles were deceptive - there was gravel beneath them. Sam, who’d had his weight braced on the hood by Dean’s hip landed mostly on top of him, knee narrowly missing Dean’s exposed junk. 

Swearing, Dean shoved his brother to the side and rolled into a sitting position, reaching for his gun on instinct. On the ground beside them was a woman with spiky dark hair, wearing a leather jacket and low jeans that showed a strip of her flat stomach. 

Sam said, “Dean I think that’s…” but Dean’s eyes had already dropped to her belt buckle, plated bronze engraved with the letters KAZ 2Y5. “Holy shit.” 

“Oh wow,” said the Impala. “Hi Dean!” 

Dean blinked. “Baby?” 

“Yeah,” she said, beaming at him and then at Sam. Her skin was the same shade of brown as the Impala’s dashboard. “Hi Sam.” 

“Hi,” Sam said faintly, pushing himself to his knees. 

“Baby,” Dean repeated. “What - fuck. The spell powder.” Dean yanked up his jeans. The Impala was brushing pine needles out of her black hair and examining her own hands curiously. Her nose was pierced. “Jesus that’s weird.” 

“If it turns men into animals it makes sense it can transform other things,” Sam said, “but how did it happen? Did you make sure the lid was on tight?” 

“Yes the lid was on!” he snapped. 

“Well, it’s meant to be ingested, right? Maybe… putting it in the car was like feeding it to her?” 

Dean made a face. “Don’t call her the car when she’s right there!” 

“It’s okay, Dean,” the Impala said, and Dean jumped a little. So fucking weird. “I am the car.” She made a reasonable approximation of Sam’s  _ my brother is a moron face. _ Dean always knew that Sam’d be a bad influence. 

Dean rubbed a hand over his eyes. His back hurt from hitting the ground, sex was off the table, and his car was a chick. “So she, what, ate the spell powder? Great. It’s not like she can spit it out again is it?”

The Impala splayed her hands across her toned stomach, appearing to investigate seriously. “I don’t think it is with me in this body, no.” 

Since the jar had been about as large as a person’s head, Dean was inclined to agree. His experience with the limits of the human body told him that something like that  _ could  _ be lodged inside a human, but not without showing from the outside. 

“So, uh. How do you feel?” Dean asked. “Besides… human.” 

She blinked up at him. “Light! And tiny. I bet you could pick me up!” 

“Um.” Dean coughed. The Impala as a human was smoking hot and definitely small enough to hold against a wall. “Probably.”

“So the jar’s gone, and so are all our weapons and luggage and stuff,” Sam said. “Where did it all go?” Dean opened his mouth and Sam added, “If you make a joke about junk in the trunk, I will end you.” 

Dean shut his mouth. Baby snickered. 

“I guess we’re going back to talk to the witch,” Sam said. 

“Hold your horses,” the witch called when Dean pounded on her door. Sam and Baby were behind him, Baby craning her neck to look in one of the cottage’s windows. 

The door scraped open and the witch poked her head out. “Back already? Who’s this?” she added, looking at Baby.

“This is my car,” Dean said, flatly. 

Samantha blinked at him. “Your… car?” Her eyes slid to the Impala again. Baby nodded, sanguine. “What happened?” 

“Your goddamn spell is what happened! I tossed the jar on the front seat and bam, my Baby’s a human. I’m just glad me and Sam weren’t in her already.”

“That shouldn’t have happened.” 

Dean made a vigorous gesture with both hands that he thought accurately encompassed,  _ well it did! _ Sam laid a hand on his arm. 

The witch shook her head. “The spell shouldn’t have done that. It reveals a… a hidden nature. Something that’s already partly there. It wouldn’t create something out of nothing, certainly not something sentient out of an inanimate object.” She was eyeing the Impala suspiciously suddenly, and Dean edged himself sideways slightly to put himself between the witch and Baby. 

“Yeah, well. Baby’s special.” 

Sam cleared his throat. “Yeah, that’s probably on us. We’ve done quite a bit of rune work on her. Bindings, protections, things like that. She might not be completely inanimate anymore. I’ll do some research later.”

Dean glared at him. It wasn’t like he hadn’t known Baby was special but if Sam had accidentally given his car a soul, they’d be having words. “Forget it. Is there a counterspell?” 

“Yes. It’s a simple incantation, but it requires the subject to be in the ocean.” 

“In the ocean?” Dean spluttered. 

“The sea has ancient associations with transformation. Proteus the shape shifter, the changing of the tides… All you need to reverse the spell is to walk the person out into the surf and say the incantation.” 

Dean waved his hands. “Do you see any oceans around here?” 

“Well I wasn’t planning on reversing it, was I? And in a pinch I can always rent a livestock trailer.” 

Pressing three fingertips between his eyes, Dean shook off that thought. “It’s not that simple. I can’t just have Baby wade out into the ocean and turn back into a car. She’d get water in her engine and her electrical would be fucked. Not to mention what the salt would do to her frame.” 

There was a short silence. Baby scuffed her boots on the floor. Then Sam said, “What about a ferry?” 

“A ferry?” Samantha blinked. 

“Yeah. I mean, would it be enough to be in the middle of the ocean without actually touching the water?” 

Dean perked up. “Good thinking, Sammy.” 

The witch nodded slowly. “That could work.” 

“Seattle’s the closest ferry system on salt water,” Sam said. 

Dean sighed. “Who’s gonna pick up three hitchhikers? In case you didn’t notice, we don’t have a car. No offense, Baby.” 

She nudged her shoulder against his. “It’s sweet that you get distressed without me, even when I’m right here.” 

“Thanks,” Dean muttered, cheeks heating. 

Samantha drove them the two hours into Billings, which was the least she could do as far as Dean was concerned. They all piled into the witch’s Ford pickup, Dean and Baby crammed together on the jumpseats in back, knees knocking together. Sam had claimed the front seat because of his sasquatch legs, and Dean barely grumbled because he knew how much Sam’s knee had been bothering him lately, even though Sam thought he was hiding it. 

Baby was quiet on the drive except once when they were put-putting up a steep mountain slope, she leaned over the front seat and said, “You should really get your carburetor looked at.” 

Dean nodded to himself and caught Baby smiling shyly at him. It reminded him with a jolt of the way Sam used to look at him for approval, years ago before the big-brother shine had gotten tarnished. And that was… it was still weird okay, but it made the pit of his stomach warm. 

The witch dropped them at the Greyhound station, told them to call if they had problems, and pulled away from the curb. “Fucking witches,” Dean sighed to no one in particular. He hated the bus.

Baby was looking around eagerly at the grimy tile floors and indifferent mid-century architecture as Sam headed for the automated ticket machines. “I’ve never been in a house before! Except for that time Sam drove me into one.” 

Dean cleared his throat. “Yeah, well. This isn’t much of one.” He wished suddenly that he could take her someplace interesting, and squashed that thought firmly. She was a _ car.  _

“Hey, Dean?” Sam called, and his tone made Dean straighten. “This card isn’t working.” 

“Shit.” Pulling out his wallet Dean flipped through the cards. “I maxed mine out two days ago buying ammo. Try this one though.” 

Sam swiped the card, frowning at the screen. The machine beeped and he shook his head. “Nope. Fuck.” 

“Well there’s the emergency cash stash in the...” he trailed off. 

“Car,” Sam finished, hitting Cancel on the transaction. “Okay. Looks like we’re hustling for three bus tickets and a motel room tonight.” 

Dean perked up. “I guess I get to take my Baby for drinks after all.” 

They found a bar that Dean was fairly certain they’d never hustled at before. On I-90 they had to be careful not to double dip. The two of them were memorable, especially after they’d won a couple hundred bucks off some of the locals. 

Dean and Baby went in first. It’d been a while since they’d run a three-man con, and Baby was a whole different animal than Dad had been, but the basics were the same. It was still early, the place was pretty empty. They snagged two seats at the bar. 

Dean waved at the bartender. “Two menus? And a pint of anything on tap that’s not an IPA.” 

Baby looked at the menu with her brow furrowed, and Dean wondered for a jarring moment if she could read. Then her face cleared and she looked up at him. “I want a double bacon cheeseburger. And pie.” 

Warmth pulsed under his sternum. “That’s my girl. Two cheeseburgers with extra bacon,” he said to the bartender, as he slid Dean’s beer across the bar to him. “You got any pie?” 

The guy shook his head. “We’ve got chocolate cake and ice cream.” 

“We’ll get you pie somewhere else.” Dean patted Baby’s knee. “Gotta have pie.” 

“You two celebrating something?” the bartender asked, with lukewarm, professional interest. 

Dean grinned and knocked his boot against Baby’s, between their bar stools. “You could say that.” 

When the food arrived Baby dug in eagerly, and Dean found that watching her enjoy it was even better than eating himself. The cheeseburgers were nothing to write home about but she was making orgiastic noises and getting grease all over her chin. A few people cast them odd looks, but Dean didn’t care. His Baby wasn’t exactly human and anyway, he liked to be out with a girl who knew how to enjoy herself. 

After she’d cleaned her plate, she sighed and beamed at him. “That was better than a tank full of premium. Now what?” 

He passed her a handful of napkins, vaguely impressed. He was still working on finishing his fries. Then again, she’d always been a gas guzzler. “Wanna shoot some pool?” 

The pool table in the back of the bar was like a thousand others he’d played at - dinged sides and balding felt. “It doesn’t look like I pictured it,” Baby said. “When you talked about pool.” 

He showed her how to hold a cue, and then racked the balls and let her break sloppily. It had been a long time since Dean had learned to play but he remembered his dad guiding his hands on the cue, helping him line up shots. Dean stood behind Baby, her body small and warm against his chest. She laughed when she missed, unconcerned, and crowed delightedly when she sank a ball. 

Sam came in while they were playing and ordered a drink. Dean’s instinctive sense for his brother pinged immediately, but Dean didn’t glance in his direction, concentrating instead on the pool table. He knew what the other guys were seeing as the bar filled up with the evening crowd. Cute couple, girl can’t play at all, guy knows what he’s doing but nothing special. 

Baby was a fast learner with a sharp eye and by the time they’d cleared the table she’d improved from truly terrible to simply abysmal and Dean’s face hurt from smiling. That was when Sam approached. “You want a real game?” he asked Dean, hip cocked against the edge of the table. 

“Sure.” Dean avoided letting his eyes wander to Sam’s mile-long legs. So he had a thing for Sam and pool tables, who wouldn’t? But he was supposed to be the nice, straight man out with his girl. “You want to grab another drink while we play, hon?” He squeezed Baby’s arm and nodded to the bar. 

Dean lost the first game, by design, and suggested a wager on the next one. Grinning and shrugging, Sam threw down two of their last few twenties, and Dean did the same. He won the second game narrowly, and they went double on the last one.

Halfway through the third game Dean glanced over at the bar, checking on Baby just as habitually as he would when she was in the parking lot and he was at a window seat in a diner. There was a man standing beside her, slouched casually in her space, looking like he was after one thing. Baby’s body language didn’t look uncomfortable, but what did she know? She was a car. There wasn’t much that strange men could do to hurt her, normally. “Hang on,” Dean said to Sam and headed for the bar. 

“Hey,” he growled, slipping an arm around Baby’s back. “She’s flattered but not interested.”

The guy reeled back a little at Dean’s glare, but gamely returned it with one of his own. “Why don’t you let the lady speak for herself?” 

“I’m his,” Baby said calmly, and something pleasant shivered in Dean’s stomach. 

He squeezed her a little tighter. “That’s right.” 

“You coulda said,” the guy muttered, and shoved off. 

“Was he hitting me?” Baby asked. “I couldn’t tell. I never get to watch that part.”

Dean felt his face heat, thinking of the parts she  _ had  _ watched over the years. “He was hitting on you,” he confirmed. “He wasn’t very good at it.” Dean hadn’t actually overhead any of the exchange, but he was confident in his assessment.

Baby propped her elbow on the bar, looking at him. “I bet you’d be better.” 

“I’d-” Dean spluttered. “Baby, are  _ you  _ hitting on  _ me?”  _

She flashed him a smile, not quite perfectly innocent. “Am I? I wouldn’t know. Is it working?” 

He narrowed his eyes at her. “You’re messing with me. I’ve got a game to finish.” 

Dean lost the third game with reasonably good grace, and his part was over. Sam, who’d shown himself to be pretty good but nothing spectacular, would lure in a couple of other guys, lose some, then win big. 

Baby held out her hands to him as he sulked back over to her, and he let her pull him into a hug. She smelled like the Impala, like home, and her arms were strong. 

“Aww, sweetheart,” she cooed in his ear like a bad porno. “Let me cheer you up.” 

It startled a laugh out of him. “Where’d you learn to talk like that?” 

She gave him a look remarkably similar to Sam’s  _ Dean’s so stupid _ look. “When you bring girls back to me, sometimes they  _ do _ say more than faster and harder.” She glanced up at him from under her eyelashes. “I learned plenty of other things, too.” 

“I bet you did.” He swallowed. “Baby, you’re my car, it’s… it’s a little weird.” Weirder than sleeping with his brother, and that was saying something. But she was warm and live beneath his hands, and as much as he liked being joined at the hip to Sam in every sense of the phrase, Dean missed fucking girls. 

“Bad weird?” 

“No, just. Do you…” He stopped. Do you even know what you’re asking for, he’d been about to say, but of course she did. She’d seen more of him than anyone else besides Sam. He had to admit that he’d always gotten a certain erotic thrill from the Impala - she was a sexy car, okay? Most of his formative sexual experiences had been in her backseat. And one of his favorite things to do was bend Sam over the hood with the engine still running. So she’d been part of his sex life for a long time, if you looked at it one way. If you looked at it another way, it was weird as fuck, but what about their lives wasn’t? Dean swallowed. “Do you want to get out of here?” 

Her eyes were dark and intent. “Yeah.” 

Normally Dean would stick around to make sure Sam was okay wrapping up the hustle. People could get pushy about losing money. But Sam could take care of himself and he had these big aw-shucks eyes that almost always forestalled violence. 

There was a motel a mile down the highway. Nothing in Montana was within reasonable walking distance, but it was a clear, mild night, and his Baby was holding his hand. He hadn’t taken a night time walk with a girl since… since when? Lisa? Not with Ben asleep at home. Cassie, maybe? Maybe not since high school. He’d always preferred to drive. 

Their boots crunched over the gravel of the shoulder. There were no streetlights, just the stars of big sky country. They walked in silence, just like they’d travelled hundreds of thousands of miles together, no need for words, just their shoulders knocking together and Baby’s warm fingers curled in his. 

They reached the motel lot, lit by the bright windows of the main office and the neon VACANCY sign. Dean halted. “Fuck. Sam’s got all the money.” 

Baby threw back her head and laughed. “Well I know a few things we can do in the parking lot while we wait.”

“On someone else’s car?” He must have sounded ridiculously scandalized because Baby laughed again and kissed him.

She kissed like someone who had watched a lot of kisses but never done it. The angle was right but she was cautious with her tongue. Cupping her face in his hands, Dean tilted his head and showed her how it was done. 

"Wow," she breathed after a long, slow exchange. It was so cheesy and so genuine that Dean had to swallow a startled laugh.

“Hang on.” Pulling back, he took out his phone and texted Sam the name of the motel.  _ SOS need king bed ASAP ;) _

It was half an hour before Sam showed up. By that time Dean’s dick was aching in his jeans and he probably had a spectacular set of hickeys. Just like with pool, Baby was a fast learner. 

When Sam came looming out of the dark, Dean wasn’t so distracted that he didn’t hear footsteps approaching - never that distracted - but he’d know his brother’s tread anywhere and he didn’t bother to take his tongue out of Baby’s mouth.

“Seriously, Dean?” Sam said, sounding amused more than annoyed. “I leave you alone for half an hour and you decide to get it on with the car?” 

“She’s right there! Don’t talk about her like she can’t hear you.” 

He felt her smile against his neck. Her fingers were twisted in the hem of his shirt, knuckles warm against his stomach. 

"You're getting the room," Sam said, passing him a wad of cash. 

Dean frowned. "Are you two going to…" He gestured between them. 

Baby tilted her head. "You think Sam wants to kiss me too?"

Sam sputtered. "I'm not the one who can't keep it in my pants for five minutes."

"She was curious!" 

"Go get the room, Dean."

Dean got a king, winking when the night manager leered at him. He knew he looked like someone had just had their hands in his hair, and he'd never minded people knowing he was about to get spectacularly laid. 

He wouldn't have minded finding Sam and Baby making out - in fact that was in the top ten things he never knew he wanted - but they weren't. They were standing close together, one of Sam's hands on Baby's hip, her head tilted back comically to look at him. 

Dean jingled the room keys and they turned to him in tandem. Baby’s lips curled up. “Can we have sex now?” she asked, and Sam coughed. 

Dean grinned. “Yeah, Baby.” 

She examined the hotel room with more fascination than the faded wallpaper and generic bedspread warranted. It wasn’t even one of the interesting ones. “A bed!” she exclaimed, throwing herself down on it. “I’ve never seen one.” 

“Let’s get your shoes off.” Dean bent to unlace her heavy black boots while Sam threw the lock and set the chain. They didn’t have any salt but Sam dug a motel pen and pad of stationary out of the bedside drawer and began drawing protective sigils and devil’s traps to tack to the door. In a pinch they had done it before. Dean let him work, focusing on Baby instead, who was watching with her eyes half closed as he pulled her boots off. 

He dug his thumbs into the arch of her foot and she moaned. 

Dean chuckled. “Feel good?” 

“Yes.” Her shirt was riding up, and he could see the tattoos on her belly that matched the symbols etched into her iron frame. She purred like an engine as he rubbed her feet, while Sam rustled around the room behind him. Dean felt a warm coal smoldering in the pit of his stomach and thought that this was the first time in his life - or at least the first time since Dad died - that the two most important things in his life were in a hotel room together. 

She made contented noises as he undressed her; fingers slow and deliberate on her hips, dragging down her tight jeans; sliding up her ribs, careful not to be ticklish, to cup her small breasts; bending to lick one perfect brown nipple, hard and puckered beneath his tongue. She whined and gasped, hand clutching artlessly at the back of his head. 

When she was naked he sat up and stripped off his own jeans unceremoniously. His cock pressed against the front of his boxers but he left them on. He wanted to focus on his Baby, sprawled out with her knees spread before him. 

Her face was perfectly open, shining with trust and affection. He had never had a girl look at him like that the first time. Only rarely been with girls long enough for them to look at him like that at all. Sam did, sometimes, but only when he thought Dean wasn’t paying attention. Dean had relaxed his strict standards on chick flick moments some when they started sleeping together, but so much emotion on someone’s face still made Dean feel stripped raw and vulnerable. 

He ducked his head instead, kissing her belly and the dip of her hipbones, nipping delicately at the insides of her thighs. She was beautifully responsive, shivering and whimpering, arching under him. He could smell the tangy-sweet scent of her arousal growing, and under it she still smelled like home. 

The mattress dipped as Sam sat down beside them, and Dean felt one of Sam’s hands on the small of his back. “You can pull his hair, he likes that,” he heard Sam say, and Dean groaned into Baby’s cunt as her hands settled on his head. She made a shocked, high noise at the vibration, fingers tightening painfully. Dean flexed his hips, rubbing his hard-on against the bed. 

Pressing his tongue between her slick folds, Dean felt the muscles in her belly jump, thighs tensing. Her taste was sharp and salty-sour, her slick a little sticky at the back of his throat, she was leaking so copiously. Sam's enormous hands were smoothing down his back, groping his ass and Dean had a mouthful of pussy; fuck the angels if they couldn’t figure out this was Dean’s idea of heaven. 

She shuddered when he dragged his tongue up to her clit, alternating little circles with steady swipes until she cried out and came, cunt fluttering under his tongue. He eased up on her clit when she started to mewl, slipping a finger inside her and pressing sticky kisses to her shivering thighs. Dean’s wet boxers dragged against the head of his cock as he humped the mattress. Above him, Sam made a soft, appreciative sound. 

Baby lifted her head, eyes wide. “Was that-?” 

Dean grinned and licked his lips. “Yeah, Baby. Feel good?”

“Do it again.” She dropped her head back on the pillow and he laughed, muffled against her skin. 

Dean took his time working up to three fingers. She was so tight around his knuckles, never-done-this-before tight, and god how long had it been since he’d slept with a virgin? Two decades, probably. He’d always preferred his partners a little more experienced. But it wouldn’t matter, not if he was as good as he knew he was - and there was none of the anxiety and the hang-ups humans had about their first time. Just his Baby moaning as he licked her clit and stretched her out, patient with her pussy as he would be with a flooded engine. 

He made her come once more before she tugged him off by his hair and said, “Can we do the rest?” 

“Wanna try getting fucked?” Sam asked, low and dirty, and Dean shivered at his familiar tone. 

The Impala nodded vigorously. “Yes, please.” 

“Protection,” Dean said, mostly to remind himself that he couldn’t just hitch her legs up and slide into her. 

“Do we even own condoms anymore?” Sam asked. 

“Course we do, they’re in the…” 

“The glove compartment,” Baby finished. Sam groaned. 

“Hang on, hang on.” Rolling across the bed, Dean snagged his jeans off the floor and fumbled out his wallet. “Aha! What did I always tell you about being prepared, Sammy?” He flipped a single condom between his fingers. 

Sam rolled his eyes. “So who gets the honors?”

“That’s up to Baby, isn’t it?” They both looked at her and she blushed, looking shy for the first time. 

“Um. Whatever Dean wants,” she said in a soft voice, and he leaned over to press reassuring kisses against her shoulder. 

“I’ll take care of you, Baby, don’t worry,” he whispered. 

“I know, Dean. Whatever you want.” 

He kissed her again, overwhelmed by her trust. She was warm under his hands like the hood of the car in the sun. Fucking her would be so, so sweet, as close as he could get to his Baby. But at the same time, the thought of her and Sam together - his two favorite things in the whole world. Breaking the kiss he looked up at Sam and tossed him the condom. 

Sam’s eyes widened, but he got with the program rapidly, stripping the rest of his clothes off and clambering onto the bed. 

Dean ran a hand up Baby’s side, the same way he would across her roof. “You gonna let Sam fuck you while I watch? Let me see him get that gorgeous big cock up inside you?” 

She whined and nodded, arching under his touch, too tempting, and he bent to suck her dark nipples again. Sam made a hungry noise, curling up behind her. Sliding a hand down between Baby’s thighs, Dean felt the head of Sam’s cock pressing between her wet folds. He felt her jolt and tense when Sam pushed in, and he pressed kisses to her chest and neck, murmuring encouragement like rolling the last half mile into a gas station on a completely empty tank. She steadied for him, like she always did, heaving in a deep breath and relaxing. 

Sam got her on his lap reverse cowgirl so they were both facing Dean, her knees spread across his so that Dean could kneel between both of their legs and watch. It was a tough position for a beginner but Sam was strong enough to hold her up and fuck her at once, the muscles in his arms bulging. He grunted as he slid deeper and Baby gasped, hands clenching on Dean’s arms. “Easy, Baby, Sam’s got you.” Dean’s dick was throbbing, his boxers soaked with precome. 

Her cheeks were flushed, lips kiss-red. Over her shoulder, Sam was equally red-faced, brow furrowed in concentration. He fucked with the same focus he used on mystic texts and cursed objects.

Dean stared transfixed at Sam’s thick cock sliding in and out of her cunt. She was leaking all over him, his balls gleaming with her slick. Running his hands up her thighs, Dean leaned in and licked just where her soft folds parted around Sam’s cock. She squeaked and Sam grunted as she clenched around him. Hungry, starving, Dean cupped Sam’s balls in his palm and went to work on both of them, sucking on her clit and making her shudder, dragging his tongue down Sam’s thick shaft as he plowed into her, licking up her salty wetness until he could taste the latex of the condom. 

His neck was starting to ache from the angle but he could feel Sam's balls pulling up in his fingers, and Baby's thigh trembling beneath his other hand. She came again, shouting, and Dean could feel the ripple of it beneath his tongue, Sam moaned as she clenched around him and fucked up twice more into her brutally before going still, the base of his cock pulsing as he shot. Dean had to clutch at the base of his own throbbing hard-on to keep from going off right there. 

Baby sprawled out dazed and boneless as Sam rolled her gently off his lap, looking like someone who’d just had her first three orgasms in quick succession. Leaning across her, Sam was tugging down Dean’s boxers and wrapping a huge, warm hand around him. 

“Can I help?” Baby asked, and Dean groaned as he felt her small hand on top of Sam’s familiar one, stroking him a little uncertainly, and for some reason that was it, he was gone. His orgasm curled up from his toes and his fingertips, wrenching through him, and he came all over her stomach, over the smooth brown skin and occult tattoos. As he struggled to keep his eyes open he saw her beaming at him, dragging her fingers curiously through his come. Another aftershock pulsed in his balls, cock drooling. 

Sam cleaned them up perfunctorily with the box of bedside kleenex. Dean was just glad it wasn’t someone’s boxers, because they didn’t have a change of clothes until they got Baby back in her proper shape. He curled up around her as Sam clicked off the lights, enjoying having someone smaller tucked against his chest. The mattress dipped as Sam slipped in behind him and flung an arm across both of them. Tucked between the two of them, Dean slept. 

In the morning they got breakfast at a diner. Baby wanted pancakes and waffles to compare. “They’re the same,” she said, after she’d thoughtfully chewed bites of both. “I don’t get it. You talk about them like they’re so different but they’re literally the same.” 

“You take that back,” Dean said over his coffee cup as Sam laughed. 

At the bus station they got three tickets and waited on the uncomfortable plastic benches for the Greyhound to pull in. Dean hated buses - had for close to two decades now and he figured he was entitled. Besides the obvious, they were cramped and uncomfortable, and they always smelled weird. 

The trip was 17 hours, overnight to Seattle. They transferred buses in the late afternoon in Missoula, and had an hour to stretch their legs and grab some lunch, and gas station sandwiches for dinner. Dean gave Baby the window seat, and Sam got the aisle because of his legs, so Dean ended up in the middle. He grumbled about it a little, but by the time the sun had sunk into the mountains with Baby’s thigh pressed against his and Sam slumped over sleeping on his shoulder like he was ten again, it wasn’t so bad. 

Dean jolted awake hours later to the sound of the rumble strip beneath the wheels, but it was just the bus taking a narrow mountain curve a little too wide. He rubbed his eyes, and Sam grumbled beside him, waking slowly. Baby turned to look at him, eyes shining in the darkness. Beyond the windows was black landscape and the stars, mountain-vivid. The windows reflected the faint emergency lights inside the bus and the glow of someone’s phone screen, several rows back. “Can’t sleep?” Dean murmured. 

Baby shrugged. “It’s more uncomfortable being inside a vehicle than I imagined.”

“Stiff?” Dean was pretty stiff himself, and not in the fun way. 

“My shoulders hurt. I don’t know how you do it for so long.” 

“Well, you’re a lot nicer than some shitty bus. Want me to rub your shoulders for you?” 

She nodded and scooted around a little in the seat to face the window, her back to him. He tugged her jacket off and ran his hands down her back, skin warm through the cotton of her shirt. She leaned back into his touch, sighing as he dug his thumbs into the corded muscle under her shoulder blades, down her spine. 

“Good?” 

“Mmmm.” She wiggled a little. “It’s like when you wax me, but better.” 

He was pretty sure the double meaning was accidental but the mental image made Dean wheeze. He could take or leave the Brazilian look but the thought of spreading his Baby out, working over every inch of her with wax, making her yelp and soothing her with kisses… his jeans were a little tight. When he squeezed the base of her neck she groaned softly, which didn’t help. 

Eventually, he felt most of the tightness had slackened from her muscles. He ran his hands up and down either side of her spine a couple of times, soothing, and then let them drop into his lap. 

“Thanks for the tune up,” she sighed. “That felt great.” 

“Any time. You want to try to sleep? Here.” He lifted an arm in invitation and she shifted so that she was leaning against his chest, tucked under his chin, the way Sammy used to fit. Sam himself snuffled in his sleep and leaned against Dean’s shoulder again, now that he’d stopped moving. 

Baby curled her fingers in Dean’s shirt. Her hair smelled like leather and motor oil - like home. “You always take care of me, Dean.” 

Something tightened in his chest. “I’m doin’ my best.” 

She sighed like a sleepy kid, rib cage heaving against his. “You’re good at taking care of things.” 

“Better with things than people,” he mumbled into her hair. 

Baby made a noise of dissent. “You take good care of Sammy too.” She said it with such conviction that it felt rude to disagree. Instead he squeezed her shoulders and stared at their ghostly reflections in the dark window as her breathing evened into sleep. 

The bus rolled into Seattle at mid-morning and the three of them got off, stiff and starving. They found a hole in the wall diner south of downtown serving brunch that would only marginally bust the bank, and Dean was too grateful for coffee to even bitch about the price of a cup. 

“The ferries are probably full at this time of day,” Sam said, working his way through a veggie omelet. “We’ll need to go when there’s extra space for cars. We can’t just transform her in the middle of a passenger deck.” 

“Tonight, then?” 

“Yeah.” 

Cities were hideously expensive, particularly on the coasts, but thankfully the weather was beautiful. The northwest was one of the most pleasant places in the lower 48 in summer and they found a park on the water with a spectacular view of the mountain range across the Sound. When they got bored, they wandered through the touristy open air market, everything noisy and crowded and colorful and Baby exclaimed over the stalls of flowers and colorful fruit and clapped and squealed like a kid at the flying fish. Watching her, Dean felt a little like something inside him was being stripped away, painful-good like a scab that was ready to come off. 

Walking down to the ferry terminal, they got three tickets for the 9 pm ferry, and then blew the rest of the cash on fancy burgers and in-house beer at a brewery for dinner. “This is better than the last burger,” Baby announced with her mouth full. 

“Not sixteen dollars a plate better,” Dean muttered, but not loudly. Once they got the car back they’d have plenty of money, and his Baby deserved locally sourced beef with pesto aioli, just like she deserved premium gasoline. Sam looked happy too, and the amber ale Dean was drinking was truly excellent, and what was money for if not a good time with his two favorite people? Well, for a given value of people. 

A little before nine, they boarded the ferry and walked down to the second card deck as the enormous engines began to growl and churn the inky water into green froth. The ferry was only half-full at this time of night, and they halted in the empty space behind the last of the parked cars. A chill, briney breeze blew in off the ocean. The sun was setting - molten gold melting into pink and peach behind the blue paper-cutout of the mountains to the west. 

Dean went over to the rail, leaning out so the wind whipped at his cheeks and stung his eyes. Baby wandered between the other cars, peering into them curiously. There was a knot in Dean’s chest. 

He felt Sam’s hand on the small of his back. “You ready?” 

“Yeah.” Dean shook himself. “Baby?” 

“I’m ready.” Her expression was calm; absolute trust that hit Dean again like a lead pipe to the knees. 

“Baby…” 

She held out both hands to him and he gripped them tight. “I’ll be right here, Dean, just like I've always been. I’m not going anywhere.” 

“Will you... Do you think you’ll remember…” He trailed off. 

“I don’t know.” 

Dean glared at Sam. “You better believe we’re doing research when we get home about what gave you a… a soul in the first place.” He ran his hands down her arms, leather jacket smooth as chrome beneath his hands, but organically soft. “Now I know you’re in there I’ll…” 

“You already take care of me, Dean,” she murmured. “We went over this.” Leaning up on her tiptoes she pressed a kiss against his lips. Then she looked over at Sam. “Do your thing, college boy.” 

Dean snorted and pressed his face against her neck, briefly, arms tight around her waist. 

“Maybe you’d better step back,” Sam said, and Dean, who had a healthy wariness of magic and also for how much his car weighed in her proper form, stepped back. Sam began to read the incantation from the paper the witch had given them, and one moment Dean was watching the wind play in Baby’s unruly hair, and the next he was looking at Sam over her gleaming roof. 

They blinked at each other and both went for the doors at the same time. It was Sam who got the jar of spell powder out first, and Dean found himself kneeling on the bench seat, running his hands over the upholstery, the dashboard and the steering wheel, murmuring soothing nonsense as if she’d just taken a hit to the head. 

“Dean, she’s fine.” 

“You don’t know that. What if we… I dunno. Fucked something loose in her?” 

Sam made a face, but said, “You can go over her when we get home. But first we gotta figure out what to do with this.” He shook the jar. “Can’t take it home with us in the car.” 

Dean turned his head toward the railing. 

“We can’t just dump it in the water either!” Sam said. “What if a whale eats it?” 

“There aren’t whales in Puget Sound,” Dean said. 

“Yes there are, there’s a local pod of orcas. The governor made some sort of declaration about them, it was in the papers a while back.” 

“Fucking hippie state,” Dean muttered. “Okay, so can’t dump the spell powder in the ocean, can’t put it in the car.” 

“This is when we want a roof rack,” Sam said, a smirk tugging at his lips.

“You wash out your mouth. Don’t listen to him, Baby.” 

“Mail it to ourselves?” Sam suggested. 

“What are the odds of the USPS truck turning into a person?” 

“Extremely low.” 

“Sold,” Dean said. “Alright, let’s find a post office.” 

“At this time of night?” 

Dean rubbed his eyes. “Thank you, Dr Einstein. We’ll stash the jar somewhere and come back for it in the morning.” 

Leaving magical artifacts around was risky, but Sam admitted that he didn’t have a better plan. Dean made Sam walk off the ferry with the jar, while he drove Baby. Hearing her engine come to life beneath him - around him - was almost like kissing her again; a full body shiver, a deep, aching sense of rightness. 

He rolled slowly off the ferry with the rest of the cars and pulled over to the curb to wait for Sam, who materialized out of the darkness and pulled open the passenger side door. “Hid it in a bush behind the terminal,” he said, sliding in. “It should be fine.” 

Dean grunted. 

Sam glanced at him. “You okay?” 

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Dean kept his eyes on the road, hands at ten and two on the wheel. 

“We’ll figure out what happened to her,” Sam said. “And maybe…” 

It was ten pm but the sky was still glowing with the last of the twilight. On either side of the road the trees were thick and dark, in contrast. The glow of the headlights was a cocoon in the night, the yellow center line blazing. “Maybe?” Dean prompted. 

“Well. We’ll still have the spell powder, won’t we? Maybe sometimes we can take a trip to the coast.” 

Dean flexed his hands on the wheel, and stretched out one arm along the back of the seat, fingers brushing the back of Sam’s neck. Warm skin and silky hair. Baby’s engine throbbed beneath them. “Yeah. Maybe.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are love!  
> My SPN sideblog on tumblr is [nevergettingoverwincest](https://nevergettingoverwincest.tumblr.com)


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